Scorched Ire
by GaleSynch
Summary: "Can you finish the story please? What happened after the boy died? It can't be the end!" I dragged the silence on, smirking when I saw him growing increasingly impatient. "Hm... let's see... oh yeah, the boy was reborn into another world." [AU, Self-Insert, OC]
1. Chapter 1

**Scorched Ire**

**Chapter #1:**  
_Re___birthday_

"Can you please finish your story? What happened after the boy died? That can't be the end!"  
—Sabaku no Gaara, age 6.

**[...]**

Coming to my senses after such a long time in the darkness, the numbing limbo, my five senses were so sharp I could practically hear the heartbeat of the person holding me. No wait. I wasn't exaggerating, I could truly hear the frantic—and weakening—heartbeat.

Arms encased me, unfamiliar arms. I didn't do hugs. Because a) I'm too old for that, being twenty-six and all and b) I was sure no one in the living world would want to hug me with the way I act around them. But that wasn't the point. The important thing was that the arms were large enough to wrap themselves around my whole body.

I thrashed—and ended up squirming—in the hold but it didn't do much. And damn it, the continuous squalls of some bratty infant was getting very annoying.

Was I kidnapped?

I didn't think I qualified as a kid anymore to be kidnapped. As far as the world was concerned, I didn't exist. I lived alone, having emancipated years ago, I had a decent job and other than back issues, I had quite the boring life.

_nothing excitable, always alone_

I was fine with that. I didn't ask for excitement in the form of being kidnapped. My family wasn't rich, I don't think they have it in them to pay whatever ridiculous ransom the kidnappers had set. Doesn't mean I wasn't about to try escaping. Again, never ceasing, I struggled to escape the caging grip on me.

A soothing voice cooed at me. It wasn't malicious, it was genuinely gentle and kind, tired but happy.

That wasn't the sort of voice you'd hear from a kidnapper. Unless said kidnapper was tired from having lugged you into this place and was very happy with the idea of the money they'd get once my parents coughed up the wanted cash. Fat chance. My parents split up when I was just a kid; my dad was a florist and my mom was a clerk. They don't have much money on them and being on not-so-close terms with them, I didn't think they'd be willing to give up their money.

We were a family of misers. Money mattered a lot to us if you can't tell by now.

Again, I was straying from my current, distressing problem.

I couldn't see clearly, everything was blurry but that wasn't unusual. I was as blind as a bat without my glasses. Still, my vision was blurrier than usual. Something, someone stroked my cheek, still cooing meaningless nonsense.

"Gaara... Natsuo... my precious, precious—..."

I stilled. I wasn't sure I heard right, but before I could think about the names the woman had spoken, she was now kissing my head, laughing softly through her sobs. She was crying.

Even though I didn't know her, didn't know what was happening to me, I stopped struggling, heart throbbing in pain when her sadness radiated through me.

"Sleep," she whispered. "and everything will be... fine... just know that I truly, truly—"

I heard no more, couldn't concentrate when I felt myself being picked up. The screaming and vibrating increased and I was uncomfortably aware of something tearing at my back, something torn away. As if someone had tried to pull my skin off my body.

"—these two are joined at the back—what do we do?"

"—need only one—"

"—that one's so quiet, is it dead?"

"Take the larger one then—I won't let the sealing be delayed any longer, twins only complicate the sealing process, perform the surgery and separate their backs—"

And everything went black.

It wasn't until much later that I realized I was the one who didn't cry.

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******( ｡◕‿‿◕｡)******

* * *

I had enough brainpower to piece together what had happened. In my past life, I was not the guy you'd go to when you wanted help in Maths or anything like that, because there were a lot of kids in my class who could finish Math problems faster than I could eat a sweet.

I wasn't an idiot though. I was just surrounded by freakishly intelligent people, that was why I appeared as an idiot most of the time. I was the guy who'd be able to tell if you're lying or if you need someone very perceptive—this is the great player of Doubt—by your side in whatever situation.

I noticed instantly, once my vision had cleared, that I had, somehow—impossibly—been thrust into another world, a fictional world that shouldn't exist and thus defied all the laws of the real world, in the body of a frail and premature infant.

The world of ninja and chakra and tailed-beasts: the Naruto world. Except that there's no Naruto or even Konoha.

No, of all ninja villages I had to be born into, it was the village of desert sands and heat. It was a miracle that I didn't shrivel up into a husk.

And that wasn't all, I was the twin brother of Sabaku no Gaara. I wasn't the Jinchuriki which was what made it so hard for me to live since I was born prematurely.

Medic-nins and this old lady—Chiyo—kept flitting in and out of my life, trying to find out what was wrong with me and pumping my heart with the chakra I needed to survive.

Having chakra was an odd sensation for me but I adjusted and I _strove_ to live.

I didn't know how long passed, between the three modes of infants which was _sleepeatsleep,_ before there was a change in my boring routine. Particularly, having visitors.

Temari and Kankuro. Thinking of them as older siblings when I had none in my past life was odd. Kankuro didn't have paint on his cheeks yet, he kept poking, pinching and prodding me until Temari slapped his hand away.

She was nicer but even though she was curious, she never tried to prod me when I'd try to bite her fingers off. Not that I could bite her, I haven't had any teeth yet.

The Yondaime Kazekage dropped in occasionally but I only needed one hand to count the number of times that I'd seen him. He didn't hug me, touch or hold me, just eyed me coldly as if to assess my worth. I couldn't help but notice that his face seemed to soften when he was speaking to his older children.

I wasn't jealous. I was used to being second-best. The not-so-liked child in the family, cast aside for my sweeter younger siblings.

Where my younger siblings (regardless whether they were step-siblings or half-siblings) would be sweet and polite, I'd be sarcastic and troublesome. I was difficult child, as my mother would always complain and I had grown deaf to her shouts. I never get into an argument.

The best way to deal with angry people was to speak calmly, smile and pretend that you're not affected. Works every time. I guarantee it—I'm speaking from personal experience. Such was the downside of being the imperfect firstborn, you'd receive less love (once you have siblings) and parents often go wrong with their firstborn because they have no experience.

I dunno about the rest of the world but that sort of treatment was common in my reality.

I was used to it.

So used that I could no longer tell between jealousy, hurt, anger and apathy.

Seems the same to me—_boring_.

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******( ｡◕‿‿◕｡)******

* * *

They serenaded me when it was my second birthday. It was a small group consisting of no one but my older siblings, myself and a caretaker. My sperm donor wasn't even there. But I was used to spending my birthdays alone.

One of the older, more motherly caretaker stroke my hair; I heard her murmuring her displeasure at the absence of my father. "Unbelievable... his own son's birthday and he doesn't attend... poor boy must feel so neglected..." Then she'd speak to Temari and Kankuro. "You two must always keep in mind to protect your brother and love him. Make him feel important."

I was actually surprised she liked me so much. That she sounded like she truly cared—and perhaps, to some degree, she did. At the thought that she truly loved me like one of her own, my cold heart warmed, a fuzzy and bubbly feeling surfacing and it was hard to suppress.

I was a hyperactive child so I moved around a lot and generally annoyed my caretakers and older siblings. Only Aiko didn't seem weirded out, she treated me with unusual patience and gentleness that the other caretakers did not show. They knew, as well as I did, that I was not the Kazekage's favorite and that made my value to them drop several prices.

Aiko patted my head, drawing my attention back to the current. "Make a wish, little summer boy," she crooned. She was, however, to exception to baby-talking. I held enough respect for her to not spit in her face when she did that close to me—the other caretakers were not so fortunate.

I had outgrown this a long time ago. Recent years before my last death, I had not even celebrated my birthday which had fell on the 7th of May. 7th of May... it was ironic that I died the same day I was born.

What did I wish for?

My mind worked furiously for an answer but I could find none. Seeing everyone's expectant and impatience gazes, seeing the candles melting into the cake, I decided to forgo the wish and blew on the candle, managing to blow out the three candles in one blow.

By then, Kankuro had stolen a cherry.

I huffed. "Happy re-birthday to me."

* * *

_**Sunagakure, May 7th; 1834 hours**_

_"My summer boy, you know a lot even though you've never seen the outside world much. What an intelligent child you are!"_

_The auburn-haired boy laughs. "Aiko-obaa-san, you won't believe me even if I told you how I knew so much."_

_She hums, smiling, the smile lines around her eyes crinkling when she does so. "Really," she says dubiously, leaning forward expectantly to hear the young boy's answer. "Try me. Whatever you tell me won't be any odder than the things I've seen in my seventy-eight years of life."_

_He giggles, cupping his mouth and leaning close, his voice lowers to a whisper. "This isn't my first life. Today is my original birthday... come on, Obaa-san, wish me a happy birthday!"_

_And Aiko laughs because children have such imagination._

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**[click]**

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything but Natsuo.**

Natsuo = his name means 'summer life'

**Author's Note:** I've read an SI being reborn in Suna but not as Gaara's sibling before so I decided to try my hand. Yes, Natsuo is male in both this life and the last.

**Question:** How do you envision Natsuo's and Gaara's eventual relationship to be like?

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**[review]**


	2. Chapter 2

**Scorched Ire**

**Chapter #2:**  
_Re___acquainting with pain_

"No, it's never the end with the poor boy."  
—Sabaku no Natsuo, age 6.

**[...]**

"Let me play!"

Kankuro turned his nose disdainfully. "But you're a baby," he sniffed. "We don't play with babies, right, Nee-chan?"

Temari frowned, looking discomfited at being put on the spot. "Er, he's right. You're such a sore loser Natsuo, it's... not nice to play with you. You cry when you lose."

"But you cheated! How can you blame me for yelling?" I protested when Kankuro dragged Temari away. Temari just shot me a pitying look before she allowed herself to be pulled out of the room.

My relationship with Temari and Kankuro weren't good. I was tired of Kankuro's stupid questions and we got into fights every time we met; I was now giving him the cold shoulder for when he spilled ramen on my pants. Temari always sided with Kankuro, saying that I started it every single time.

I don't like her and the treatment. But I was used to it. Didn't mean I wasn't raging about it though.

"Jerk!" I yelled, throwing the ball at Kankuro's face; my older brother managed to stick his tongue out in my direction before running in the other direction, pulling Temari with him. The teal ball bounced off the wall, rolling back to me. The ball reminded me of my left eye's color.

Gaara had the same eyes as me, I'm sure of it. I frowned, turning to look out the window. How was Gaara? I wondered if he was as lonely as I was.

I snorted as I slid onto the floor, back against the wall.

Tch. Of course he'd be lonely.

I just didn't think I could empathize.

The front door slammed shut with finality, leaving me along in the kitchenette.

I scowled, letting my head fall onto the table. It was so... quiet. Aiko was out, the rest of the caretakers were relaxing elsewhere and would not appear anytime soon unless I call for them. My eyes roamed the small space, my eyes flickering back to the bright blue sky outside the window every time I moved my gaze somewhere else.

There was no explanation for the pull in my chest, urging me to leave the house.

I listened attentively, made sure no one was approaching before slipping off the chair; tiptoeing to the window and peering out. I needed to stand on tiptoes to do that. From the third floor, I saw a lot. Villagers were milling about, greeting one another or waving and generally doing something.

_Come._

The sand brushed my face gently, as if inviting me to join them in the breeze.

Without a second thought—I was that impulsive—I jumped.

I didn't know my way around the village but I paid the villagers little mind; the sand was blowing, urging me to go down that direction and that—

The wind carried the sand to the right and I followed. I knew where this was going, where the shifting sands were leading me to—

I came to an abrupt halt, gazing wide-eyed at the playground. It was sandy but what drew my attention was a ring of kids. Sand rose from the ground, retrieving a ball but instead of gratefulness, the children screaming, running in my direction, crying monster—

Impulsively, I threw my arms out, snatching the boy and with all the strength I had, forced him back.

He yelled in terror but I didn't care.

"Say thank you!" I yelled in his face, grabbing him by the collar. He cowered, watching me with wide-eyed terror. "Show him your gratitude, he helped you!" I glared at him, shaking him hard. "Do it or I'll crush you with sand." That was a blatant lie, I didn't know any jutsu.

I had just started throwing shurikens and how to hold a kunai right.

I dropped the boy, grabbed him roughly by the shoulders and marched him to the redheaded boy who watched with something akin to horror and awe. "Well?" I snapped.

"T-t-t-thank y-y-you f-for h-h-h-helping us." I released him the same time Gaara dropped the ball he was holding. The boy didn't waste this given opportunity; screaming, he took off running but I paid him no mind.

I knew we were twins but... to bear such great resemblance to one another?

We weren't identical twins, we were fraternal twins but the shape and shade of our eyes were the shape—his hair was short and spiky, mine was wavy and reached the small of my back but the color was the same.

Gaara's eyes were wide, they looked like they would pop right out of his sockets. He gulped. "N-Natsuo?"

I raised a hand, an easy grin rising to my face. "Yo. Wanna have a go on the swing? I'll push you."

And that was the start of a long and beautiful, uh, brotherhood.

Not really. No.

Because our bond was tested not even before the second week we met started.

* * *

**( ****｡◕‿‿◕｡****)**

* * *

On hindsight, it could've been considered my fault. Since it was fun to prank Yashamaru by making it harder to tell who had done it, I had a haircut, cutting it till it was the exact same as Gaara's. I felt lightheaded and naked but I definitely felt cooler.

Anyway, with my hair short, I could pass off as Gaara as long as one doesn't look too closely.

The problem was exactly _because_ that assassin didn't look closely.

I didn't know why the hell our father tried to kill his son this time around but I guessed it was either to get rid of an unstable Gaara or to test his prowess in battle.

An attack meant for Gaara—I stood no chance.

If the ANBU assigned to guard the Kazekage's children (or ANBU who were assigned to see how badly the assassins would screw up) weren't efficient, I would've been dead. As it was, I did not escape unscathed. The ANBU assigned to me had barely been able to Shunshin me out of the building before it exploded.

I didn't know the exact details since I was blinded. Literally. In the right eye where glass shards had pierced my eye when the window had shattered as some fucking second-rate shinobi had jumped in through.

It was the most—fucking—painful—thing to ever happened to me.

I was screaming my head off, clawing at my mutilated eyeball before I was rushed to the hospital. I cried and screamed, I squirmed and struggled—disrupting and preventing the medic-nins from getting down to business until I was knocked out by a sedative.

Fuck it.

Time was elusive, slipping from my grasp, for the next few days. I just remembered disjointed events and flashes of memories—two voices that could've been Temari and Kankuro, a few unfamiliar people flitted in and out, some were white blurs and I knew they were medics.

My mind worked sluggishly, I couldn't open my right eye which hurts as if fiery needles had impaled my eye (wasn't too far off the mark I know), I could only see blurred figures and even them, I couldn't see clearly.

When I finally came to, it was Aiko's face who greeted me.

She soaked the cloth before placing it on my forehead. When the cooling sensation of water touched my skin, I sighed contentedly, I hadn't realized I was scorching before she did that.

"Rest," she crooned. "Nothing will hurt you anymore."

* * *

**( ****｡◕‿‿◕｡****)**

* * *

She couldn't have been more wrong.

My aim with the shuriken had gone to hell because of my blind right eye. I had a hard time adjusting and I kept tripping and falling. Nothing could sum up how miserable I was. I was so furious I snapped at everyone every three seconds. What made it worse was that my sperm-donor (did he even deserve the title father? I dunno what Mother saw in him) didn't even visit and no one tried to offer an explanation.

Not even Aiko.

I knew I was mentally very old and I shouldn't be behaving like a child but I had never been the most mature of adults. Not even Aiko was free from my wrath, I screamed, shattered things and everything.

I lost my eye because of Gaara. Because of my father's insanity. Because of the assassin's sheer incompetence. I hoped my sperm donor had ordered the bastard to be put down, executed, tortured to death or something along those lines. Preferably, I wanted to tear him limb from limb, tie his severed head from the fan with his own entrails and bath in the bastard's blood.

As if he was trying to calm my bad mood, the absent father had sent me a mountain of stuffed toys and dolls. No word, no face. Only a note tagged to the panda: y_our brother loves these_. It seemed as if he knew I had a soft spot for cute things. And the toys he gave me were definitely cute.

But, no. I would not forgive him so easily. It wasn't hard to resent him. Every time I had to turn my head, crane my neck to see something to compensate for the lost vision of the right eye, rage boiled and I'd find myself chucking one of his gifts out of the window.

My sole teal eye glared at the ceiling as I laid, slumped on the pile of gifts.

I think... I'm forgetting something.

What—

Gaara. Didn't I promise him that I'd visit as soon as possible?

How long had it been since I last saw him? I cast a listless glance at the calender hanging on my wall. Three weeks. It had been that long since I last saw him. I was surprised he didn't try to find me, the sand would lead him to me as it did lead me to him.

I needed comfort and someone to complain to: Gaara was the right person.

Temari and Kankuro had scarpered when I threw a fit at them and I knew they wouldn't try to come close to me for a few more weeks at least. I adjusted my eyepatch—it was not a smart move to get sand inside the empty socket where my eye had once been.

It was awkward and inconvenient.

Thanks to that incompetent assassin (and I tried to silence the part of me that screamed bloody revenge on Gaara who was also the cause of this) and my idiot of a sperm-donor (someday, I'm going to kill him before Orochimaru does), I now had to work extra hard to catch up to my level before. I misjudged a lot of stuff wrong, my depth of perception had gone on to the beyond without me.

My reasonably good prowess in taijutsu and shurikenjutsu was now sea-bottom.

The only reason my instructors hadn't lost their temper with me was because I often lost it before they did.

My chest boiled with anger; growling at the unfairness of it all, at how I was unable to do anything to get payback, I thew myself face first on my bed, screaming into my pillow.

My throat was sore now.

Furiously beating the pillow to a pulp, I tried to ignore the wet trail down my cheek.

* * *

**( ****｡◕‿‿◕｡****)**

* * *

Gaara was the one who greeted me, his smile dropping to be replaced by horror when he saw the eye-patch.

"Yo," I said, grinning as I did when we first met. Only an idiot wouldn't be able to tell how stiff the grin was, as if I had to force it onto my face—which I did.

"What happened?" Gaara was a shrewd child. He found out what had happened immediately, he paled, horror didn't seem like it'd be ever be able to leave his features if he kept wearing it like that. "I-It was them, wasn't it?" I arched a brow. "They tried to kill you because they thought you were... me."

I narrowed my eye. "Yeah."

He glanced at his shoes. "Are you mad at me?" His question was meek. It was funny to think that he'd be the Kazekage and sociopath someday.

Best savor this moment because I doubt I'd ever be able to get such a hold on him in the far future.

"Hm... noooo—" I hadn't even ended the drawn out word before Gaara tackled me into a hug.

I didn't return the hug.

Over my twin's shoulder, Yashamaru stepped out of the shadows.

I glared.

He smiled.

This won't be a happy uncle-nephew relationship, I know it. I never had good experiences with my uncles of my past lives; with my hot-temper, sarcastic attitude and someone who simply can't stand rudeness, even from elders—I got along with no one that's assertive.

"Just die already," I muttered bitterly, wishing that the uncles of my old life could hear this too_. I_hate_them_—

Gaara stiffened, pulling back. Too later I realized what I'd said would've been misunderstood. Before I could blink, Gaara was gone, tearing down the streets of Suna.

"Oi, Gaara, come back! I wasn't talking to you—!" But my call fell on deaf ears as the last of Gaara's red hair disappeared down the corner. I glared at Yashamaru. "I hate you! This is all your fault!" I was being irrational, I know, placing every way my uncles had wronged me on this man's shoulders but I didn't care.

"Gaara!"

I couldn't forget no matter how much I tried—the memory burned into my mind—the tears that streamed down my twin's cheeks when he heard my words.

* * *

**Sunagakure, April 13th; 1927 hours**

_He's not a great chakra sensor but Sunagkure isn't too big and Gaara wouldn't wander too far into a territory he's unfamiliar with, Yashamaru has made sure Gaara knows that danger's lurking everywhere for him._

_Needless to say, Yashamaru find the twins easily: in the place where they first meet._

_Gaara's control over his sand is good enough for him to camouflage himself but Natsuo is his twin, the one who's been joined behind his back since they had started developing in their mother's womb, they are, in a way, the same being._

_Natsuo sees through the camouflage easily, hand breaking through the sand effortlessly and lands on his brother's shoulder and Yashamaru is surprise to see Natsuo's expression; so kind and gentle when there's only pure, unadulterated hate on his features when he sees Yashamaru._

_Yashamaru needs to tell the Kazekage-sama about this. Because Gaara has never let anyone breach his sand even when he's so upset before._

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**[click]**

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything you recognize.**

**Question:** Your thoughts?

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**[review]**


	3. Chapter 3

**Naruto © Masashi Kishimoto**

* * *

**Scorched Ire**

**Chapter 3**

by GaleSynch

* * *

The first time I played with chakra, I nearly lost my remaining eye because I had not realized my chakra had such properties and the kitchen came flying at me. I frequented Gaara's place and eventually, just settled down there. I had been growing increasingly lonely when Temari and Kankuro came home with tons of stories to tell about their training with some personal teachers.

Oh, not to me. We still didn't get along. They often chatted with the maids.

"Why can't I start training?" I grumbled moodily to Gaara. "You already started, didn't you?"

"Eh, but my circumstance is different from yours," Gaara said in a placating voice. He was well-aware of Shukaku within him.

"But still... those two already started learning how to mold chakra. Tch, and Dad always helps you with ninjutsu which involves chakra molding."

"I can teach you," Gaara piped up, eyes sparkling.

I smiled at him. "There's no need to. Chakra is easy." To be fair, chakra was a foreign energy to me. Occasionally, whenever I was angered, it fluctuated in response. I didn't immediately realize what it was until I lost my right eye. Chakra flowed into every part of the body and the sudden loss of my right eye made me achingly aware of my chakra pathways encompassed where my eye used to be.

Technically, I was supposed to report to the nannies if I felt strange.

Chakra was hot and cold at the same time. It both burned and soothed me: my right eye throbbed sometimes, the chakra swirling around there, stuck as part of its path had been removed but I could regulate it to a certain extent. The first time I noticed how my empty socket burned, I had instinctively pushed the cooling energy toward it, coaxing it away.

It had taken me awhile to realize that was chakra.

"Here, I'll show you something I've never let anyone see before." Tapping into chakra was a little like stepping under a cold spray of water: this made it immensely easy to summon something from within. Could you summon blood from within? 'Course not! You couldn't even feel it.

I assume, to Gaara and the rest who were used to it since birth, chakra was similar to blood, except that it responded when called upon.

So it was doubly harder for them to properly summon and mold chakra.

The handkerchief I had placed on the table vibrated, lifted from the table and shot into my palm.

Gaara made an awed noise. "How did you do that?"

"I dunno. My chakra has magnetic properties—_AIEEE!_" Appearing abruptly behind me, a shadow whizzing into existence, overshadowing Gaara and I, the man startled me so badly I nearly fell off the chair. I righted myself, squeezing the handkerchief in fright, and whirled around to see who it was.

"Oh, you." I relaxed, slumping into the chair instantly when I recognized him for who he was. I surprised myself for actually remembering him. It wasn't like we saw one another often.

My sperm donor was paying me a visit, which was quite a surprise. I could count on one hand the number of times we'd seen another, much less spoken. "What do you want?" I asked, not bothering to keep the contempt out of my voice.

"As rude as ever, Natsuo, I see," Kazekage-sama returned, voice cool.

"Chichi!" chirped Gaara from behind me, sounding delighted to see our father.

"Hmph!" I crossed my arms over my chest. I didn't have anything against him, I just thought he was a horribly cruel and neglectful father towards Gaara.

And me, come to think of it but I didn't really need his affection.

"Natsuo, did you know what you just did? Magnetized the handkerchief," he asked and answered the question himself when he saw that I was prodding Gaara's sand wall instead of looking at him. I tried to touch Gaara, no harmful intentions, but the sand rose automatically to prevent skin contact. "That is a kekkei-genkai."

"I wouldn't have known," I mumbled, rolling my eyes.

"Is there such need for rudeness?" 'Dad' asked, right brow arched.

I bristled. "No! You showed no appreciation to me so I see no reason to not reciprocate!"

"Are you feeling neglected?"

I narrowed my eye. The last thing I wanted him to think of me was a needy child seeking attention. "...No," I snapped. "I just think you're a failure of a da—_aaad_—" Gaara kicked me. "Ow! I mean, when are you going to start training me? You have this kekkei-genkai, too right?"

The man was too smart to have missed what I was trying to say and my tactless way of changing the subject to minimize the damage. "Yes," he said eventually, gazing at both of us with a critical eye. "You cannot, however, join Gaara. As it is too dangerous." He did not specify who would be the one endangered.

"Question," I piped up, waving a hand for his attention. He shifted his gaze to me. "Can I walk on walls without bothering about the amount of chakra I'm using? I know too much chakra would destroy the surface I'm walking on and too little would result in me falling. But since I can give magnetic properties to the wall, a tiny amount of it is enough, no?"

"Quite right. But that requires great chakra control. Have you tried the Leaf Practice, Tree Climbing and Water Climbing?"

"I did attract rice, does that count as superb control?"

"You're a walking, talking magnet," Gaara whispered. "It has nothing to do with superb chakra control." It was unfair that I couldn't even elbow him in retaliation.

"Natsuo, I want you to be awake by five in the morning tomorrow. We only have two to three hours before my presence is required in the office. Gaara's training will be rescheduled to start at midnight to three."

"That means you'd have little hours of sleep," I pointed out. Not that I was worried or anything. He could pass out now and I wouldn't care. Definitely. "Why can't we just train together?"

"I have my reasons," Father answered shortly and left.

**[...]**

I was forced to wake up even before the sun was peeking out from the clouds. I suspected that this was on purpose: for Gaara's sake.

The Kazekage gave Gaara something to do at night when everyone was asleep—and though it was not us normal people's fault, it would still isolate him and make him feel lonely about not being able to sleep. Sort of nice of him. Our father's kindness was tough to spot and it was very rare. One must actively look into his actions, read between the lines, to spot his "fatherly affection" for us.

I didn't like that. What was so hard about being honest and to-the-point?

Come to think of it... that may be why people in my old life hated my guts and I got into so many fights. I thought they were shit, I told them point-blank: it must've not flowed well with them.

Anyhow, being around Gaara who was always sensitive to every little thing helped. It took me about an hour of coaxing, convincing and cajoling for him to come out of his depressed shell when he mistook the "I hate you" for Yashamaru for himself.

Yeesh. He'd be the last person I hated. Yashamaru, on the other hand—

"This ability we share is known as Jiton. It allows us to convert chakra into magnetic forces and magnetize an object." Kazekage-sama's voice dragged me away from my train of thought where I was dismembering Yashamaru and force-feeding him— "Natsuo, are you listening to me?"

Oh, right. With great effort, I wrenched myself back to earth. "I get that, skip, skip—now start teaching."

"Impatience is unbecoming of you, Natsuo," my father grunted, rather annoyed but he didn't punish me beyond that chide. "There is a reason why I did not want you to train with Gaara. There are only two people who can, most likely, calm Gaara down should Shukaku go wild. I assume you know what and who Shukaku is?"

"The demon sealed inside Gaara," I answered instantly. It wasn't exactly a secret. The whole village, including the nannies and my other siblings, knew it too.

"Yes. Only you and I have the ability to stop Shukaku should he go on a rampage."

"Gaara wouldn't do that unless you provoke him," I sniped accusingly, eye boring into him.

"True. However, we must be prepared for worst case scenarios, in this case, you are the fail-safe. I want to teach you how to manipulate Gold Sand. It is specifically used to counter Shukaku's sand, taking advantage of gold's heavier weight by mixing it in with the sand to hamper the demon's control."

"Ah, so you want me to hamper Gaara?" I narrowed my eyes, mood soured.

"I want you to stop him if Shukaku takes over. Emotionally, you are the closest to him. Physically, you will also have the ability to hamper him."

I sighed. So, in the end, I was as much as his tool as Gaara was. Shrugging off the bitter resentment in my mouth, I said, "Can we start?"

Kazekage-sama let me start with simple tasks: such as bending metal and walking on any sort of terrain he could put me on. He also informed me, at the end of the short session, that I could also play with it and treat it as training at home.

I would also be able to start other aspects of my ninja training.

It never struck me that I had a choice to say 'no' to being a ninja.

**[...]**

My new sensei was Pakuda.

She was a harsh and strict teacher. Even though I was the Kazekage's kid, she didn't give much favoritism. I wasn't sure I respected that or not; I certainly didn't like not receiving special treatment.

I had a fellow companion when it came to being beaten into the ground. Her name was Maki and came from some renown clan (within Suna anyway, I doubted other villages even knew about her clan).

Maki was superbly uneasy around me but she hated me after I magnetized her and the unsteady branch smacked her upside the head. _And_ stuck to on her head for the rest of the day. She did not dare retaliate as I'd invited Gaara to laugh at her as well.

This was also probably the reason why I had no friends. I preferred spending time with Gaara and did not associate with other kids: in fact, I spent much of my time terrorizing them despite Gaara's insistent pleas to stop.

The boy did not know the meaning of payback.

Jeez. For every slight or glare against him, I retaliated but Gaara didn't seem to want that. He had taken pacifism to a new level. I was deeply impressed.

"Gaara," I would always moan to him, "You've gotta fight back!"

"But that would only make them hate me more!"

Oh, someone needs to teach that boy what it means to be _mean,_ all right.

Life in the desert was peaceful but no means relaxing: for one thing, the sun was burning into my skin. I was getting tanner than Gaara which was unfair. We were born, backs attached so there was no telling who was older or younger, together—at the same time—but we weren't even identical.

You must be surprised by how easily I accepted him as family.

Well, let's just say that I had always been an easy-going person...

...It definitely wasn't because I hadn't gotten along with my last family.

'Course not! What a laugh!

**[...]**

I woke up late one night without knowing why. I glanced around sleepily, dimly noticing that Gaara was absent. This jolted me into a state of awareness. Whenever I went to bed, Gaara would always be there: for one whole night. I always assumed so because whenever I woke, he would always greet me cheerfully.

More often than not though, he would find new and creative ways to wake me up.

I was a pretty deep sleeper, which was part of the reason why having Gaara next to me was a relief. If a ninja decided to come and assassinate me, I would be pretty defenseless since I was not an alert person at all.

Kazekage-sama—I still had trouble calling him Dad as affectionately as Gaara much less referring to him as such in my thoughts—had chided me countless times about it, mostly sentences along the lines of "this is not a good sign of a ninja, be more alert" etc. and crap along the same lines.

But I usually ignored him.

That was when the screams hit my ears.

I scrambled out of bed, rushing towards the window to gaze out: "Gaara!" I yelled instinctively, the need to make sure he was safe ringing in my ears like a scream. "Gaara?"

He didn't respond: usually, he answered my call in a heartbeat.

I decided to sense where he was. I was, by no means, a chakra sensor but sensing Gaara came naturally to me. He was way further than I had anticipated him to be, which baffled me: he didn't usually wander far from his usual haunt. The sounds of howling and the increasing screams of terror finally drew my complete attention: I looked up.

"Ah!"

It was Gaara—yet it was not. It was Shukaku rampaging, trampling on the buildings and squashing villagers flat. I squinted through the darkness and made out the vague outlines of villagers running for cover. I did not more, stunned and frozen on the spot.

How had this happened?

Then it clicked: Yashamaru.

I never did liked my 'uncle'—pah, relatives!—but never had my hate and anger reached such a point. The negative emotions boiled so much that I really thought, for a moment, that my heart was burning. I dashed out of the room, pulling on my sandals, and thudded out of the house.

"Natsuo-sama, stay where you are!"

I turned my head to see who it was. It was an insignificant guard. I glared at him. "Screw off, I'm going to where my brother is."

"Kazekage-sama ordered us to bring you to safety—along with your siblings."

"Gaara—is—there—WHOA!—put me down ya jerk!" But the ninja guard assigned to protect me did not heed my orders; I flailed and kicked my feet but he hauled me off easily. I let out an enraged hiss, opting to concentrate on how to get out through force instead of words.

"My order is clear, Natsuo-sama," repeated the guard, "I am to get you and your siblings to safety. Please don't make this any harder—"

I gritted my teeth, pounding my fists on his back. "If Gaara isn't included, I'm not moving!"

"Natsuo-sama—I apologize in advance but—" Something blunt hit my neck and the next thing I knew was darkness.

**[...]**

* * *

**[A/N]:** It had been too long. I have no excuse. It's short but the next chap will have a time-skip. ORZ

**Q:** How strong do you want Natsuo to be?

**Review!**


	4. Chapter 4

Naruto © Masashi Kishimoto

* * *

Scorched Ire

* * *

4.

Four months.

That was how fucking long the Kazekage had separated me from Gaara. I was on my absolute worst behavior so the maids would at least summon my father for disciplining. No such luck. My plans were shit. My life was shit. My siblings were shit.

My teacher, Pakura—or Pakuda or Pachinko—at least offered me some source of comfort. Oh no, she didn't give me chocolates or roses or sing lullabies to make me feel better. No, she pushed me harder, drove me into the ground with training and stretched my capabilities to the limits so I could only focus on improving, on being better to not get my ass kicked.

My personal lessons with Rasa—I finally learned my father's name, go me!—had been put on hold for four months. To compensate for pausing the learning of a kekkei genkai, Pakura was ordered to teach me—Maki's lessons would be postponed until further notice, Kazekage's orders, son's special treatment—the Shakuton, or the Scorch Release.

When Rasa finally showed his stupid face—that looked like mine and didn't help ease my mood because I just thought of myself as stupid—I was eager to show him what I'd learned by trying to Shakuton his freaking face off.

He smacked me upside the head for trying—and failing.

"Ow!" I rubbed my sore head, glaring hatefully at the man I had to call father. I resorted to the rudest endearment I could say without getting punished by being buried in sand until only my head sticking out. Short version of the first time that punishment happened: stormed my father's office to find Gaara, burned his paperwork, and he hauled me to the village gates and ordered the guards to bury me there until sundown (that _asshole,_ it was barely dawn; sadly, I couldn't sue him for child abuse). "Old man, where's my twin?"

Rasa's eyebrow twitched at the 'endearment' I'd christened him with. "Gaara is _still_ ... unstable."

"You've been giving that answer to me for four months!" I rebuked, scowling. I adjusted my eyepatch, wiping the sweat forming beneath it. "Why can't I see him? He'll start thinking negatively if left alone."

"I need you to be able to control the Gold Dust before you can see him."

Finally—an ultimatum. "I can do it already," I announced haughtily, still not understanding why Rasa was so persistent about not letting us meet. "I just don't have gold dust..."

Rasa handed me a pouch of ... ryo? No, gold dust. I would've preferred real gold or ryo instead of, y'know, dust. I made it stick to Rasa's face. My father looked like he wanted to bury right there and then and never let me out. "See? Awesome. Now let me g_oooo_."

"Can you control _all_ of it?" Rasa emphasized _all_ by demonstrating it before tossing all the dust into sand. I knew I could also magnetize sand to be attracted to one another and form a shape, similar to Gaara's manipulation with sand but tougher to control and slower.

I furrowed my brows as I concentrated; I closed my eye and reached into the ground, my chakra latching onto the sand surrounding me and lifting them up. "See? I can't ... tell the difference between gold and sand though."

Rasa finally relented and said yes.

"I don't understand why it has to take so long," I complained as we trooped to his office. "I mean, you subdued it in one night."

"I meant to test how he could handle a psychological attack. I cannot have Gaara losing his head to Shukaku every time someone betrays him. I've been testing his restrain." I stepped on Rasa's robes, nearly tripping him. Rasa responded by smacking my head again and pulling me to walk ahead of him. Villagers waved cheerfully but cringed away at the sight of me, apparently mistaken that I was the Jinchuriki.

"Isn't that too cruel? He's seven," I pointed out sternly.

Rasa looked annoyed that I was lecturing him. I could see it as clear as day on his face. "That is why I asked Yashamaru to do it instead of you."

"Hah! Like you can do that!" My previous ire at him was seeping away when his office came into sight.

"True," muttered Rasa. "Natsuo, I want you to promise me something ..." I spun around to confront him, smiling since I was in a good mood. "Never ... never abandon Gaara—this village needs you to subdue Shukaku in the next generation, Gaara needs your help."

"I know." I did.

:: :: ::

Gaara was in the basement of the Tower. When I peered in, the first thing I noticed how everything sparkled, then I saw my brother. He burst into noisy tears when he saw me and sand from a gourd propped against the wall surged forward, forming hands that reached for me.

"If you're pulled by the sand arms, you're not seeing Gaara again."

That was the worst sort of motivating speech ... ever. I panicked until I saw how the ground sparkled again and sent my chakra into it: instantly magnetizing them and the golden dust surged forward, forming a wall that the sand crashed into and when it tried again, the larger amount of gold dust stopped the sand from advancing.

"Told you," I shot Rasa a smug smile, wiping sweat.

"You have an hour to convince Gaara into releasing you." Wha_aaaa_t? Rasa stepped away and closed the door. He didn't lock it though, which meant I could leave whenever I wanted. Gaara was still in his corner beside the gourd, sniffling and crying.

I liked seeing people cry because of me ... but not Gaara. I gave the grappling gold and sand a wide berth and made my way to Gaara. I didn't like seeing him like this but I didn't know how to cheer people up. _I_ was the one who made them cry man. So I did what I was more used to doing: threatening.

"If you're just going to cry and ignore me, I might as well go ..." I trailed off but Gaara took the bait.

"No!" I stiffened at his unexpected hug, wraps tightly around me, pinning my arms to my side. The sand crumbled and I saw to it that the dust gathered ... well, more dust in the corner. I tucked my hands under my twin's armpits to support his weight. "Don't go," his voice came out muffled against my shirt.

"I'm not going anywhere yet," I placated. "I just came to check on you."

"What took you so long?" Gaara demanded.

"... Oyaji wouldn't let me come. I didn't know where you were," I replied truthfully. "Anyway, I brought something for you." Wetness was starting to seep into my shirt but I ignored it in favor of showing Gaara the pirate-panda plushie. Well, it wasn't. I took out its right eye and had the maid sew an eyepatch onto it in reminiscence of me. Gaara figured that out quickly, smiling when he saw it.

"Thank you ..."

"I have a panda," I added. "Now that you've stopped crying ... " Gaara quickly wiped his cheeks to erase the evidence of his tears. "... wanna tell me why you're crying?"

"It's Yashamaru," the name was whispered like a curse. "You were right. He is rotten."

"When I have ever been wrong?" Despite my words, I figured now was not the time to brag and instead, said, "Oyaji told me why he used Yashamaru to assassinate you." Hatred and anger flashed through Gaara's eyes—perfectly imitating the expression on the villagers' faces. He had the right to it anyway. "He just wanted to see if you can refrain from being so emotional ... if you mentally break down, Shukaku can take over easily ... that's what Oyaji was worried about. He doesn't want the village in danger, you see." I sounded very bitter at the end, probably giving Gaara a bad impression of our father.

"You mean he loves the village more than me?"

"It's duty," I mumbled even though I wanted to say yes. I decided to not be too harsh on Rasa now that my anger had mostly abated. "It's not a matter of love."

"Then Yashamaru?"

"Who knows?" That wasn't the answer Gaara was looking for but I wasn't about to go and paint Yashamaru in a good light. I wasn't badmouthing him and that should count as something already. I awkwardly hugged my twin again. "Well, I'm going to—"

"You said you'd stay!" Gaara cried, seizing both wrists with his own frail hands.

"Stay and talk, yeah, but I'm going home to eat and sleep. Either you come with me or I'll come back tomorrow." Gaara had already stood, answering that question without speaking as he clung to my arm. "... Okay."

No one was stupid enough to mess with us or even taunt us; they'd just seen Gaara going on a rampage and they weren't keen to start another one. Since Gaara and I could use chakra already, we easily made our way around the village to the Kazekage (kids)'s mansion in five minutes tops.

Oyaji had his home built at the edge of the village for privacy, I suppose, but it was also easier for enemies to harm us without going through the meat shields that were the villagers. And I think I was turning up to be a terrible shinobi. The thought of being a Missing-nin wasn't appealing though.

Now, if Gaara became Kazekage and allowed me to roam the world with monthly cash ... now I sounded like a tramp. I shook off plans for the future and concentrated on the now.

Now where Temari and Kankuro stared, wide-eyed and terrified, at my twin brother. I gestured towards Gaara. "This is our brother, Gaara. That's Temari and the stupid-face is Kankuro."

That snapped Kankuro back from his horror. "I'm not stupid!"

"He's wearing paint that looks stupid," I added.

Gaara tightened his grip on me but didn't say anything to them; his teal eyes narrowed at them. "H-hey," Temari managed through her own misconception that resulted in the fear she felt for her brother. She cast me a panicked look, like she was asking me to do something to help her. I remained silent. The maids were nowhere to be seen even though they often greeted me when I came back. One glimpse of Gaara and they took off screaming, warning the others to not show themselves. Fortunately, Gaara didn't see the immediate need to defend his own honor. "We've never met, did we?"

"Never?" I echoed, surprised.

"No," Kankuro confirmed. "But, uh, you look a lot alike."

"...We're identical twins," I scoffed at his idiocy. "Come on, shake hands."

Kankuro cringed at every inch he extended forward, as if he was about to put it through the shredder. I peeled one of Gaara's hand off my forearm and made him take Kankuro's hand to be shaken. Temari was more easy-going about it. "S-So, what're you doing here? You never live with us before."

"Natsuo's here," Gaara mumbled like that was a valid answer.

"Okay ... " Temari met my eyes. "You'll take care of him, won't you?"

"Yes," I said. "I sleep on the third floor. Come on."

Dinner proved to be a problem where I made Kankuro share half of his food with Gaara's because the maids had expected him to leave but he didn't and since he stayed, he had nothing to eat. They were too petrified to move back to the kitchen and cook. They ran right out of the house; they were civvies but they could've put the Yellow Flash of Konoha to shame with the speed they left.

"Why're they acting like that?" asked Kankuro, puzzled. "I've never seen them like before."

"It's because of ... him, you dolt," Temari snapped, stabbing a slice of carrot with her fork, like she was imagining her brother's eye there to run through.

"Gaara's not actually scary but don't tell anyone. Did you know I can take free ice-creams with Gaara there?"

"You can't take without paying!" Temari shrilled.

Gaara, who was nibbling reluctantly on a broccoli scowled at her. "Don't yell at Natsuo."

There was no more conversation. We finished our dinner quickly and fled to our own bedrooms. I didn't want to complain about Gaara but ... he really was a mood-killer. Despite our contradictions and arguments, we could joke, talk trash about one another, and laugh, like normal dysfunctional siblings. There was no point advising Gaara of anything; it was Temari's and Kankuro's problems.

"They don't ... like me," Gaara concluded, crestfallen as I was buttoning my pajamas.

"We've got to talk to them more. We have a day-off tomorrow from training so we should be able to play together."

Gaara thought about it. "What can we play?"

"... Something. I'll figure something out so just relax. Things will be fine."

:: :: ::

It wasn't easy. I woke early, realized there was not a point in time I would be able to be earlier than Gaara, and snuck into Temari's room while Gaara skulked around for breakfast. "Nee-san," I said, using the endearment that meant I wanted something from her. Temari knew it, too: she groaned and burrowed deeper into her bed. "Gaara's going to go on a rampage if you continue ignoring him."

She sat up so quickly our heads smacked together. "OUCH!"

"Wha's'ong?" Kankuro asked, poking his head through the door that joined Temari's and Kankuro's respective rooms. My room was one floor above. "Gaara?" he squeaked.

"I'm Natsuo! Can't you tell? I have longer hair, tanner skin and only one eye! ONE EYE!"

"What're you doing up so early?" Kankuro stepped in, mussing his hair and rubbing his eyes free from the crust of sleep.

"We should play with Gaara, since we have no plans to train."

"Eh?" Temari looked extremely reluctant. "But he's dangerous!"

"He's not Shukaku!" I protested.

"He might be tricking you," Kankuro pointed out flatly, shuffling closer to stand beside me. "You spent the night in the same room? He never sleeps, I heard, is that true? Did he try to strangle you into sleep?" He gasped dramatically. "Did he change into a monster?"

I kicked Kankuro. "Gaara's Gaara; Shukaku is the thing inside him, it's diff. And no, he didn't do anything but sit on the bed all night to now. I say we play tag."

"Um, no."

"You aren't going to say no to Gaara, are you?" I threatened. "Who knows what he might do ..."

Kankuro's face turned green. "Okay," he mustered enough courage to whisper. His stomach growled loudly. "But first, I need to eat."

"Gaara's cooking," I teased.

"I'm full," he managed hoarsely.

I burst out laughing. "I'm just kidding. The chef is the one doing the cooking." I laughed harder at the double meaning behind my words and skipped out of the room, optimistic—for once—about the day.

Watching Kankuro and Temari cower at every move would be fun beyond measure.

:: :: ::

* * *

**[AN]:** Sociopath averted; Gaara would still be withdrawn and quiet but no longer so murderous.

**Q:** You wish for romance or anything in particular?

Review!


	5. Chapter 5

Naruto © Masashi Kishimoto

* * *

Scorched Ire

* * *

5.

Tag was a terrible idea. Gaara didn't understand what it means to run and tap someone. He used his sand to do all the work and after losing consecutively, no one else found it appealing to play anymore. Gaara wondered if our dear older siblings wanted to train with him. They ran for their lives: _hell no_, slapped in Gaara's face without a single word.

I patted his shoulder comfortingly even though I wanted to laugh. Kankuro's face was priceless. "Tee-hee ... don't worry. They'll warm up to you soon enough."

"I don't need them to," Gaara told me archly, hurt but not willing to show it, "I have you."

"I can't possibly be the only one," I muttered, thinking of Naruto's influence in his life. Gaara opened his mouth to protest that statement but then, a loud banging reached our ears. Gaara tensed, I did, too. The sound was repetitive and someone's voice permeated through the chaotic sound, repeating a name.

"Temari-nee!" I shouted at the stairs. "Someone's looking for you!"

Temari was scowling fiercely as she ran down the stairs. "I saw from the window," she told me sourly, face twisted into a frown of concern and annoyance. She shot Gaara a wary look. "Natsuo, come here for a sec." Gaara made to follow but Temari shook her head. "Alone."

"Why?"

"I'm not about to kill my own brother!" she spat at him and recoiled quickly when Gaara's expression changed swiftly.

"Whoa, calm down!" My mother would've been proud, man. Usually, she was the one who had to step into the middle to stop a fight between me and my sister. I turned to Temari. "Is it that much of a top secret?"

"The boy outside is Daimaru." She received a blank stare from me for all her efforts. "The guy who keeps pranking me!"

"Because he loves you," I chirped, recalling the wide-eyed, buzz-cut hairstyle boy. I loved teasing her about it though he could be super-annoying, such as when he tossed a scorpion into Temari's shirt. "C'mon, let him in."

"But Gaara ..."

Ah. I see her problem. So that was why she was so hesitant: he may be a bully but she didn't hate him enough to sic Gaara on him. Daimaru kept knocking, drumming on the door to a certain, rhythmic beat now. "He's annoying," Gaara stated flatly, not noticing the look of panic flashing through his sister's face.

"Want Gaara to scare him off?" I asked excitedly. I grabbed my twin's arm and started dragging him downstairs to the foyer. The door flew open as Gaara used his sand to turn the doorknob.

"Hey, Tema—" Daimaru started but didn't finish. I yelped as a lizard was tossed into my face, blinding me, as he mistook me for my sister. I shrieked and ripped it away as sand rushed in, filling the doorway and the screaming from up and down filled my eyes as sand effectively buried me. This was Gaara panicking.

Sand snuck beneath my eyelids, filled my nostrils and mouth and— Arms grappled and pulled me up. My head broke surface and I wasted no time gagging out all the sand. This was why I hated the desert so much: sand _everywhere._ I had to bathe for an hour everytime I left home.

"Natsuo?" came Gaara's tentative call. I rubbed my eye and checked my surroundings. The foyer had disappeared beneath six feet of sand and it probably extended to the dining room, kitchen and servants' quarters—all of which were on the first floor. I heard Temari yelping at the stairs and she stumbled on unsteady surface to reach us. I guess she hadn't mastered walking on sand with chakra yet. "Are you alright?" he asked again.

I nodded but I was quite unhappy about having to take another hour's long bath to get rid of all the sand in places that I didn't even _know_ existed. "Up," I said simply and a hand of sand formed, dragging me out of the rough and scratchy substance. "Where's Daimaru?"

"Down there."

I gagged. "What? Pull him up! He's Temari's boyfriend, our future brother-in-law! You can't kill him!"

"What?!" Temari shrieked from the stairway, having retreated when she saw Gaara. "What're you talking about?! Don't give Gaara the wrong idea! Throw Daimaru out of the house—now!"

"He'll suffocate!" was Kankuro's helpful input. "By the way, I never liked him. Can we pretend he's something Gaara accidentally rolled in?"

Gaara looked confused; he had never had so many people suggesting to him what to do, But he prioritized my opinion before all others so he started digging Daimaru out for me. Daimaru's throat bobbed painfully then he added another inch to the sand by vomiting everything he had.

Daimaru's visage was filled with terror. He didn't need our urging to take off running and never look back.

A minute of staring later, I told Gaara to roll the sand out before our servants died of asphyxiation or something then we will starve to death.

**-:-**

It came as no surprise to me that many of the servants resigned. Only Aiko-obaa-san was willing to remain but even she was getting older. Her eyes started failing and she could no longer stand for such long hours in the kitchen to cook a meal for four children with amazing metabolism (because Gaara had decided to make his stay permanent).

Shinobi generally needed to consume food of higher calories than civilians did. I did my best to help her because, so far, she was the only one I liked in this household who didn't share my DNA. I went with her to the market in the village and helped out.

I had been of the popular opinion that Suna was smaller than Konoha and I still believed that but Suna was pretty damn big. The sight wasn't much, since every building was covered in sand, splashed in perpetual sunset color, and the streets were sand. We didn't have decors because if a sandstorm hit, everything would just be blown away.

The walk from home to the market was nearly forty-five minutes. That was no journey an old woman should bear. Aiko seemed to have some budding fondness for Gaara, claiming that he reminded her of a panda that the zoo enclosure in Konoha had.

Due to the bad experience with Yashamaru, Gaara ignored her and treated her with the same disdain one would have for a fly. Mean, right? But I didn't want to force him to play nice with people, especially when it would mostly be fake necessities and it would only be done on my behalf.

Personally, I didn't see the point of cleaning the house when an open window would just blow away our hard work.

Oyaji hired a few maids to replace Aiko but they didn't last long and he had to keep a permanent advertisement in his office and around the village.

I know that I could be too harsh on my father sometimes but I didn't know how to close the gap. I felt very, very awkward whenever we were in the same room. In fact, I would feel the instinctive need to poke fun at him. Particularly the ridiculous Kage robes every Kage had to wear.

I had to wonder who had designed it. I suspected Senju Hashirama since he was the first Kage and all, so he should be able to set the trend.

Oyaji seemed to be somewhat of a mind reader. He kicked me out of his office when I started giggling hysterically to myself. This sort of attitude combined with my likeness to Gaara—right down to the character 'love' Gaara had carved onto my forehead in the same spot after getting my agreement—made it doubly hard to tell who was the Jinchuriki so I was pretty much given the cold shoulder as well.

I started the Academy when I eight. As far as I knew, this was two years later than the children in Konoha did. I wasn't complaining though. Since I was the Kazekage's son, I should be able to skip grades if I showed potential.

Temari and Kankuro were a few years ahead of us.

Us — yeah, Gaara was with me. A couple of kids withdrew to try again next year when they found out. I didn't blame them, Gaara didn't wore a nice expression and he rarely smiled anymore. I loved him, seriously, but sometimes ... I found it hard to contend with. He didn't smile and he was such a killjoy. I tried not to be resentful nor did I showed him this sort of attitude though.

Truthfully, we were all the other had. Lonely as it sounds. Temari and Kankuro kept more to themselves and looked too relieved to be away from us.

The Academy taught the usual stuff: maths, geography, physics, kanji, katanaka and the history of Suna and shinobi. Gaara was pretty smart: he grasped concepts easily and always passed up his homework. I was more careless so I made more mistakes than _he_ did in maths.

I was so ashamed an eight-year-old could beat me, a twenty-something in mentality, in maths that I should've mastered years ago. Sadly, maths was not my strong suit so I shouldn't be too surprised that he was scoring better than me in school. Intelligence hardly mattered anyway, if you weren't a Nara who could keep ten paces in front of your enemies.

I just had to be an opportunist; snatching advantages from catastrophes.

Besides, I had Gaara with me. And he was safety.

**-:-**

The years passed quickly.

Oyaji dropped by only special occasions such as our birthdays, specific festivals celebrated in Suna or when he wanted to check up on our progress. Temari and Kankuro were in the same Genin team, having graduated when I was only ten. Their third teammate was Daimaru—can you believe it? Even after the scare Gaara had given him, he wasn't relenting in pursuing Temari's affections.

(Temari was older than me by three years, Kankuro by two and Gaara, eh, he's the youngest.)

It was without a question that Gaara and I would be on the same team. I just pitied the poor girl—Akiyama Matsuri—who had to complete our three-men cell. Baki-sensei introduced us and pleaded us to play nice.

Matsuri was trembling as she looked at Gaara. It would've been funny if it didn't utterly ruin our teamwork and give Gaara a worse impression of himself.

_"He's actually good-looking—like me—but he just glares too much and it's Shukaku's reputation ruining his first crushes," I had explained to Temari before._

_"Um, yeah right. I can't associate you with good-looking."_

_"Fuck you."_

_"And that mouth. Just, ugh."_

Despite my dysfunctional family, I was pretty ... happy. Content with my life. Sure, sometimes I showed the restraint of a PMSing woman but I was coping with the loss of my right eye and that I would, it seemed, always be weaker than Gaara. Medicine wasn't that advanced yet but there was talk about eye-surgery. Here was to hoping Senju Tsunade could do something about it.

I'd mastered the Shakuton pretty well. Far better than I was doing in Jiton anyway.

It frustrated Oyaji. Just recently, the Wind Daimyo had further cut our budget. The stress of our depleting resources was getting to Oyaji. I could see where I'd gotten my temper, if I hadn't been reborn with this picture perfect personality already. You'd think my father was on his monthly period with his attitude.

He snapped at me when I was a fraction too slow or when my control was weak. His words stung, scorched worse than my Shakuton jutsu.

Of all times that Gaara could've defended me, he didn't. Oyaji had a pretty big say in our lives and if Gaara put one toe out of line, it was damnation—in other words, separation for eternity. I would probably be exiled to underground at the mounting rate of our argument and my growing disrespect.

I, however, was an extremely considerate person. I refrained from picking fights in public areas or when there were witnesses other than our immediate family because I would be undermining my father's authority in this village. What was a Kage if he couldn't even keep his son in line?

You get it, right?

Eventually, our relationship degraded to something like "you scratch my back, I scratch yours" and if we had no business with one another, we generally pretended we lived in two different worlds.

It sorta did. It was like how Konoha was to me. I knew the Chunin Exams were looming but instead of being scared shitless ... well, I must say, it would be fun. Gaara was, after all, the most dangerous of opponents and he was on _my_ side. I was safe.

Gaara was seen as a monster by everyone else, even our siblings. And Oyaji viewed him as the sharpest kunai in the tool shed (now I'm not saying Gaara's the smartest but you know what I mean). But to me, Gaara was safe: he'd protected me on every mission and with him by my side, I didn't feel like anything could touch me.

Yeah, maybe he was coddling me. I was aware that my abilities, in comparison to other shinobi I could name out there, was just a fluke.

But I wasn't even in the middle of the storyline.

I should be safe, right?

Wrong answer.

**-:-**

* * *

**Q:** Three guesses as to what happen, guys. :P

**R&amp;R**


End file.
